


Lipstick that Tasted like Cannibalism

by Bai_Marionette



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Blood, Bloodplay, Cannibalism, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, Genital Torture, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Violence, M/M, Necrophilia, Sadism, Self-Cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bai_Marionette/pseuds/Bai_Marionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan really should have gone looking in another bar for a night time hook up, he really shouldn't have approached the beauty and believed he'd gotten lucky. The infamous Alfred F. Jones, otherwise known as 'Mels', was gonna eat his heart out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lipstick that Tasted like Cannibalism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [siwobell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siwobell/gifts).



It was at the end of the Second World War.

At the end of the bar was a lonely blonde. Her curls were done up in a stylish look that bathed her bare freckled shoulders and slim back. Her makeup was pristine, red lipstick done perfectly, and dark eye shadow bringing contrast against her face. Her earrings were simple rubies with dangling diamond chains. Her slim neck held a gold chain atop her sun kissed skin. Her dress was meant to be modest but her hips –or maybe it was a corset that pushed out her small breasts – made it more seductive. Her little glasses sat on her button nose.

Ivan thought she was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.

She would be his prize after surviving that horrid war.

He had well enough faith that his charms would win her heart and allow him to sweep her off her feet. He was sure of it. So he tried to buy her a drink. She was alone, no one around her, no man to speak of and her left hand was clear of any signs of claim. Not that a silly little wedding ring from an American buster would have stopped Ivan. He was sure that he could steal her affections.

He was so sure of himself that he decided to approach her.

He had seen the girl come to this same bar and sit by herself at the bar counter for almost a week now. She always looked like she was waiting for someone. The girl usually came around six o’ clock in the evening, chatted with the bartender, and ordered a drink by eight. By ten o’ clock, she was starting to slump in her corner when nothing seemed to please her and by twelve, she was paying for her few drinks and leaving. Few meaning around three or four, she never drank much, but Ivan had heard her order a few times.

She was fond of hard liquor. 

“Hello,” Ivan said, coming up behind the pretty woman and sitting himself next to her by the bar one night. His friends watched from a distance, curious, but found themselves looking away at various things when Ivan gave them a look. Nosy bastards.

“Hm,” was all the girl said, swirling her shot glass around. She looked back down at her cup, seemingly disinterested and Ivan felt just the slightest offended. Weren’t American women supposed to be easy or something? No, wait, was that was the French? Or was it the Italians? Germans?

He couldn’t remember.

Feeling nervous as he almost squirmed in his seat, he felt some confidence from earlier start to leak out of him. Maybe she was being put off by something. Maybe it was his accent?

Feeling a bit of color rise to his face, he almost huffed. His English was actually very good! He didn’t skip words and his grammar was almost perfect. True, he had some slip ups in homophones, but that was all!

“Ah…so what is your name, miss?” Ivan tried to start over, toning down on his smile as he attempted to look friendly and not like the huge Russian hothead that he was sometimes known to be.  He already tacked on as the young woman spun to look at him, blinking in clear surprise that he was still there. He almost pressed on but he had to first see if she was interested.

The lady frowned, regaining her earlier composure and sipped a bit from her drink.

But Ivan could see her slight blush under her makeup. His smile widened, as he continued. “You look very pretty tonight, how are you here all alone?”

She set her drink down, turning to look at him fully and not just sideways glances every now and then. She gave him an onceover and the Russian felt himself sit a little straighter. Maybe being built like a Yeti had its benefits-

“Your fly is down,” she said smoothly, her voice like dark silk. But her words were mocking and Ivan felt fire burn in his face as he hurriedly looked down. No way-

She flicked his big nose as he bent his head to look down and then giggled. Ivan looked back at her, realizing the little joke, and while it almost poked his ego, he allowed it because she was pretty.

“My name is Ivan,” the Russian introduced with a grin, holding out his hand. “What is yours?”

She shook his hand and the man found she had a strong grip, almost yanking down to her height. “Call me Mels.”

“Mels?” Ivan tested the name on his tongue.

The lady shrugged, smirking, “It’s my nickname. I can’t just be givin’ out my government to any big fella that asks for it.”

She winked.

Ivan decided that he loved that shade of eye shadow over her blue eyes. Blue eyes that had done more than stolen his heart as soon as he’d sat down.

:::

They talked together every time Mels came in. She never came to Ivan’s table, said she didn’t like crowds, so Ivan met her at the bar counter each time. She seemed to really like that. She also seemed to like that Ivan was a veteran of the war.

“Ya really fought alongside us?” She asked, leaning towards Ivan, as she turned sideways in her seat. She hurriedly adjusted her skirt before it rose up, blushing a bit when the Russian caught her movements. He tried to make up for his look downwards and nodded, telling her a bit about his brief time with American soldiers.

“No kiddin’…” Her hands were cupping her face. Gloves. She always wore black gloves, short though, only went about up to her wrist. “Say, big fella,” that was her petname for him now, “did ya know a guy named Mathew Williams?”

Ivan tried to think back, but the name didn’t spark any memory in particular. “Sounds familiar,” he lied. “Why?”

Mels grinned, “That’s my big brother!”

Ivan liked that grin on her. It suited her better than just looking passive or sad.

:::

One night, Mels didn’t come at six.

She didn’t come at seven or eight or nine or even ten.

She came at eleven with a busted lip and black eye.

She told Ivan to go away and that she “didn’t want to talk to no one right now.”

Ivan let her be, even though his instincts told him to stay with her.

He thought he heard muffled sobs coming from her corner of the bar.

She left early that night, only twenty minutes after coming in.

:::

Ivan didn’t see Mels for near three weeks.

Then he got a letter from the American commanding officer that he had to get ready to leave. He wasn’t a citizen and couldn’t just stay in the State just because he wanted to. Not even for Mels.

His heart tore just a little to know that he’d have to tell her.

:::

She came back the next day, looking much better, looking pointedly at Ivan when she came in. She waved happily and Ivan waved back. He excused himself from his buddies and went over to their usual places at the bar. The bad news still hung heavy with him.

He didn’t want to disappoint her after it looked like she’d been having a hard time.

“Mels, I have something to tell you-”

“Can you tell me over supper?” She interrupted then blushed, “Oh, my bad, big fella. You can continue now.”

Ivan paused, thinking that over. Actually, dinner might be a good way to break the news to her. Or get him laid. Whichever.

“No, dinner sounds good…” Ivan said, sitting up straighter, smiling some to ease whatever fears she might have. She smiled back, her infamous grin back. Something lit up in her eyes for a second but then it was gone.

“Great,” Mels was getting up, a bright prep in her step. Slapping some money down on the counter for a drink that she’d hadn’t even had yet, she was giggling as she pulled Ivan with her to the door. “C’mon, big fella, follow me.”

Ivan’s cheeks flushed as his friends cheering in the background.

:::

It was dark outside, nearly twelve.

Mels walked to a truck, it was old but the way she drove, the Russian knew the truck was strong. Inwardly, he was glad that he walked most places. Driving like this had to make someone insane, if not nauseous. Thank God that he hadn’t eaten yet.

It took a while to get there but Mels kept the atmosphere bright with her chatter. She lived in the country, she said, didn’t really care for the city folk or their noise but liked to come into town every once and while. She explained that the bar was one of her favorite places to go, because she used to listen to others’ conversations during the war as a pick-me-up when she was feeling down. She felt down a lot during that time.

“But when you started talkin’ to me,” Mels laughed. That flicker came back to her eyes. “I knew my downy days were over.”

Ivan didn’t bring up her three week leave.

He was just happy when the house finally came into view.

:::

They started off with wine. Mels said she didn’t have any scotch or vodka at her place, nothing but her brother’s old wine. Ivan didn’t mind. The wine was sweet. He found himself refilling his glass more enough than he was talking to the pretty lady chattering over the chatter of pots and pans.

Then after one glass, Mels’ red heels were in his sight and Ivan realized with a numb realization that he’d fallen on the floor. Someone scoffed and a deep voice commented, “Damn, I thought you’d never stop. ‘Bout to drain my whole damn bottle, ya fat fuck.”

“Whaa-?” Ivan frowned. That voice – where was Mels? He could only see those red heels clacking around in his vision. Someone sighed.

A grunt and then the Russian found himself on his back.

“Dumbass,” the deep voice snarled at him. Ivan blinked and then blinked again before he almost balked. That was a man’s voice but how?

The blond above Ivan stomped on his chest, ramming the heel into the Russian’s ribcage. “Fucking fatass, aren’t ya?” They grinned. “You’ll feed me for a good week with just your belly. Wonder if your dick is just as big as your stomach.”

They laughed and it was nothing like Mels’ lovely titter.

“Who…are you?” Ivan managed to get out, drool on the corner of his mouth. He couldn’t move, no matter how hard he tried, and yet he could everything. The blond smirked, clearing their throat for a moment to say in a very familiar voice, “I’m Mels, big fella, don’tcha remember the gal ya was gonna eat supper with?”

Ivan wished he could have thrown up.

The blond – this imposter – sighed again, downing a glass of wine. Ivan wondered why he wasn’t on the ground too. Did he have some kind of immunity to whatever drugs was in the bottle that Ivan had been drinking from?

The blond noticed his attention and smirked, putting the glass into his view. “Don’t worry, big guy, I ain’t goin’ down in my heels. My glass ain’t spiked.”

Of course, it isn’t.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He rummaged around in his corset top, tossing aside the padding to simulate breasts. “This life gets hard sometimes, sugar. Luring big men like you out here is like pulling teeth sometimes.”

He gave Ivan another look over and grinned, “But sometimes, the catch is worth the price.”

He took off the black gloves.

The blond’s hands were littered with scars and bite marks. He grinned as he saw the eyes on him, moving to straddle Ivan’s waist. The golden skirt flowed over his waist, billowing out before it was smoothed down in a half heartened attempt at modesty. The Russian felt his heart gave a hard thump through his veins when he recognized sunflowers on the skirt.

At least he’d die looking at something pretty.

“Such a nice piece of meat,” the blond marveled as he undid the buttons of Ivan’s plaid shirt. He palmed the now flushed and sweating flesh beneath his palm. He smirked, tweaking a nipple in between his fingers. Ivan grunted in response to which the blond hummed in reply. “Yeah, I’m gonna need something special for you, big fella…”

There was a chuckle and then the blond found the near empty wine bottle. He hummed, thinking something over, before he simply shrugged. “Why the Hell not?” He laughed and then he brought it down on Ivan’s head.

It took two powerful whacks for the Russian to knock out, drugs aside.

That fear pleased the cross dressing blond straddling so much, he was licking his lips.

:::

When the Russian male awoke, he blearily opened his eyes, groaning. His head hurt something awful and his chest felt tight for some reason. He took a breath and soon realized why, he had an apple stuck in his mouth and two baby carrots up his nose. He shook his head violently to get rid of the offending items; upon their clatter to the floor, he heard heels clack on the tiled floor.

Wait, tiles?

“Now, that’s just rude,” the blond from earlier said with a huff. He bent to pick up the apple, frowning at it for a second. “Oh damn, if you could spit this out, I might need to give ya some more sleepytime.”

Ivan’s breathing quickened though his head was drowsy. He tried to squirm, only to realize he was tied expertly in front of a wood stove. Shit, he was fucked.

The blond gave him a level look for a second and Ivan couldn’t tell what they were thinking.

Then they spoke up, going down to kneel in front of Ivan. The Russian couldn’t help but to shuffle his feet and struggle as he may to try and close his legs in vain. But nope, his long limbs were tied to the chair’s legs.

“I can’t wait to taste you, sugar…” The blond breathed, palming the taller male through his pants. His voice changed back to Mels’ Southern Belle syrupy thick cajoling. “You’re gonna fill me up for a long time…”

Ivan couldn’t help but to lick his lips, confused but the sensual rubbing was giving him an erection. An unwanted one at a time like this, but one present nonetheless. The sound of a zipper coming down brought him back down to the present, some form of twisted relief as his hot flesh was allowed a bit more breathing more.

Red painted lips touched the thin lining of his underwear, blowing warm air through the fabric and Ivan shivered in pleasure. He felt his face flush at the erotic sight right before him. Man or not, Ivan could pretend it was still Mels in his mind.

Her hair was a bit more mused and some of her curls were in her vision. Her freckled cheeks were dusted pink, her perfect lips poised just like a good girl – now if only she would just get on with it –

“Shit-” He hissed in a breath, as a warm hand snuck its way down his waistband and peeled it further down on his hips. Mels was licking her lips, her lipstick just as pristine as ever, as she dipped her head into the pubic hair he hadn’t thought to shave earlier. She didn’t seem to mind, nuzzling it and kissing the flesh beneath it. Her lipstick left a mark.

It was the hottest thing ever and it only looked like the fun had just started.

Ivan could only watch in his frozen fantasy as a warm tongue sucked and licked at his arousal, as he pretended that gloves were back on those scarred hands as he was finally freed. His erection was proud and the blond in between his legs were in their own state of awe at its size. A lick here, kiss there, red lipstick marks painted the organ, pre-cum leaking down the organ and off the corner of the lipstick owner’s mouth.

Ivan let out a heavy breath, tongue almost thickening in his mouth, as he was indulged in his fantasy. He didn’t know if it was the drugs from the wine or something else, but whatever it was, there could not have a more heightened sense of ecstasy.

Blue eyes met violet ones and Ivan was just about to cum right then and there, that pretty little mouth suckling gently on the head of his arousal. His voice hitched in his throat, throwing his head back and nearly about to spurt the white ribbons – when a sudden pain befell the same organ as he yelped, a strange mixture of pleasure and pain overcoming him as he both stiffened and sagged in the chair.

Wide eyes met the blond below him.

Mel’s face was gone, only the sadistic blond from before, as they looked the slight bruise from Ivan’s softening member. Ivan’s chest rose and fell, as he gave them an utter look of disbelief.

The blond smirked, licking cum from their lips and swallowing the rest, before getting back up and picking the apple up with him. He giggled, popping it back in Ivan’s mouth.

The Russian’s eye twitched in mixed emotions and he spat out the offending fruit, glaring at the blond.

They just tsk’d him, trying to force it back into Ivan’s mouth, lightly threatening, “Now, c’mon sugar, you’re gonna wake the wolves ‘round my place if they catch ya screaming-“

Ivan spat in the other’s face, “I would rather be eaten by wolves right now than stand your company, whore.”

Whore. It came off his tongue so easily and the reaction it brought out in the shorter came even easier. The blond took offense, glaring back, snatching a needle from a pocket of their skirt and stabbing Ivan in the thigh with it, injecting everything inside and then tossing it aside on the large country table next to them.

It didn’t take long for the contents to take effect, Ivan became flustered and he squirmed in his seat despite the pain it brought in between his legs from the sore orgasm it brought earlier. He could feel arousal try and strike again despite how he didn’t want it. It hurt. The bruise throbbed.

“Are ya gonna be good for me now?” The blond purred, leaning forward and stroking the muscles of Ivan’s stomach. “I gave ya some happy juice, you should be a good boy for Alfie now…”

Alfie, as in Alfred?

Ivan made a face, “I have better idea. I will be a good boy and not damage your face too badly when I-“

Alfred, finally a name for the blond stranger, swiftly made a grab for the knife on the cutting board on the table, knocking some things over and out of the way in his anger. But he got what he wanted and he did what he wanted with it. He stabbed Ivan straight in his eye, laughing hysterically, as he climbed aboard the Russian’s lap.

Ivan screamed above the laughter, as Alfred continued to gouge the poor organ and twisted the blade before finally giving a yank and pulling the white ball of tissue free. Blood oozed from the gaping hole as Ivan fought hard not to cry any harder than he already was.

This was worse than the war.

Ivan choked on a sob as Alfred moaned, popping the eyeball into his mouth and chewing it slowly like it was some kind of wonderful taffy. A slim hand brushed up Ivan’s thigh, the one he’d been stabbed in with the needle, before travelling up Alfred’s skirt and grabbing something under the fabric that made Alfred’s moans deepen.

Saliva and blood alike drizzled down the blond’s chin before he smashed their lips together, the sadist pushing the chewed organ over into Ivan’s mouth and forcing himself to taste his pain again. The Russian gagged but as the other rubbed and massaged his throat, he found his muscles being forced to swallow.

His face was green with disgust.

Alfred looked down at Ivan lovingly before leaning forward and kissing down his exposed neck. The taller feared to move away or at all, as he saw the bloody knife still tight in the other’s grip. The sadist pulled away after kissing a spot behind the taller male’s ear to lick the blood from the blade. He hummed pleasantly, eyes closing in bliss, and then he stabbed the Russian in his hand.

The knife met with a hard thunk in the chair’s wooden arm, as Ivan screamed in pain. Yanking the knife free, he licked it carefully for more blood, moaning at the taste, squirming in Ivan’s lap. He sucked at his fingers like his life depended on it. “Oh God…” He squirmed again, “I-I almost wish I could have ya inside me in a different way…”

He looked back at Ivan’s forced arousal between his legs, keening a bit as he started to move on the erection and create friction. Both men groaned. “M-maybe I could preserve this, would that work?” Alfred moaned aloud.  “I hope so, you’re so fucking big, and I love it.”

“Fucking…whore,” Ivan swore under a grunt. He shouldn’t enjoy this. But he was. Was he just as twisted as Alfred?

Said twisted men didn’t much like being called a whore for a second time, punishing the Russian in swiftly chopping off a finger and then holding the blade at Ivan’s throat. “What was that?”

Ivan hissed in pain but otherwise kept quiet, tears still in the corner of his eyes, fear and anger mixed well in him. When Alfred tapped his cheek with the knife, his chin trembled but he still kept quiet. It wasn’t until he was kissing down his neck and the hand from under his skirt went to roam over Ivan’s abdomen that he broke the silence.

Alfred paused. “Did you just tell me no?”

Ivan took a shallow breath through his nose, wishing that he’d kept his mouth shut.

Alfred was quiet for a minute before he abruptly got up and just left the room, slamming the door behind him. Ivan let out a sigh of relief, even if his arousal was nearly killing him and he thought he could feel his balls dying.

He took that near hour of peace to try and regain his mind and look for a way out. But no, his ropes were expert and the drugs made thinking about anything but his throbbing arousal painful and near impossible.

But when Alfred came back however, Ivan nearly started screaming all over again. The sadist had tear streaks under his eyes, making his eyeliner run, as he smoked a cigarette and held a chainsaw in his hands. He revved it. Speaking loudly over it, “Either we do this easily or you can make it hard for the both of us.”

Ivan didn’t hear what Alfred said, all he saw was the chainsaw as he screamed and tried to get away. His sudden thrashing and hobbles made him titter about until he eventually fell over, crying and near about to piss himself in fear.

Heels clacked across the floor as Ivan continued to try and squirm away. He hadn’t even made an inch of progress before Alfred had righted him and looked at him, words almost pleading, “Last chance…”

“You are fucking crazy!” Ivan shouted, as his fears were making him lose his sense. Luckily, he was only slapped for that outburst.

But after Ivan spat at Alfred, he found himself trying to kick out as Alfred clawed his face. Clawed attempts at his face turned into hard punches to his remaining eyes and nose, when the punches finally ended after what felt like forever, Ivan had a swollen and black eye along with a broken nose.

Alfred put the chainsaw on the table, cupping Ivan’s face in his hands, “Wanna play nice now?”

“Fuck you,” Ivan said through a busted lip. Alfred let out a roar of anger, snatching the chainsaw with an impressive sweep over his head, revving it quickly and then bringing it down even quicker on Ivan’s shoulder. The Russian screamed, squirming and kicking violently as the metal tore painfully and roughly through his tendons and flesh, severing bone easily. Blood spattered everywhere, painting everything in a good five foot range.

When the arm fell to the ground, Alfred’s skirt held a tent from his own arousal. Ivan was near ready to black out from pain but the drugs kept him awake and conscious. He was crying, snot dripping, and his sole eye red and itchy and sore.

Alfred tosses the chainsaw aside, forgotten, as he held Ivan’s shirt in tight fists as he gave a long lick to the severed arm’s wound. He moaned as he palmed himself through the skirt.

Ivan moaned, but his was of pain not pleasure. At least, that’s what he told himself. He couldn’t believe he was still alive, in all honesty.

The sadist crushed their faces together, noses and teeth clashing for the briefest of seconds, as the shorter forced Ivan to taste his blood in their tongue battle.

“You would have been perfect for me, big fella…” Alfred breathed as he pulled away. He snaked his hand down, kissing the Russian’s neck, littering the pale skin with desperate hickeys, as he pumped his arousal. He wanted to admire that erection again; he wanted to feel its fullness in between his legs as Ivan bled out right in front of him.

Alfred gasped for breath, pumping Ivan faster and smearing his finger over the head with the taller male’s pre-cum and the remainder of his red lipstick, “I won’t keep ya, hun…I just need one thing.”

The shorter grappled for the whereabouts of his kitchen blade again, Ivan’s focus fading in and out, before he felt the sharp pains in his chest. Again and again as Alfred stabbed him repeatedly, again and again until he had made a sufficient enough wound to toss the knife aside and then use brute force to rip the Russian’s chest open with his hands. He moaned at the feel of fresh blood on his fingers, breaking Ivan’s ribs out of the way to get to his prize.

Ivan was barely conscious, life fading fast, pain only a memory.

Alfred saw Ivan’s heart, still beating vainly, and he licked his painted lips. He gave one desperate kiss to Ivan’s cooling lips, as he grabbed it, feeling it beat beneath his palm. He bucked in the Russian’s lap, pumping the Russian to near finished and then holding it. He squeezed the taller male’s arousal gently, enjoying how Ivan moaned for him.

In a few seconds, he’d never moan for anyone else ever again.

The sadist yanked the heart free as he felt Ivan finish in his hand. The sudden pain of having his heart removed gave the taller a bare second to react and he wasted it in biting Alfred’s bottom lip in their kiss, pushing their faces as close together as his binds allowed him. Alfred moaned at the pain, shuddering violently, as he pulled with a pair of kiss-swollen lips and a soiled spot on the front of his skirt.

Whoa, that had been intense.

Ivan was slumped in the chair, dead, his heart removed. Alfred snuggled the organ to his chest for a moment, enjoying the few last seconds of warmth, ignoring the wetness leaking through his shirt. He adjusted the spread of his legs, feeling just how his victim’s flaccid member felt under him. Still big, he realized with a grin.

“Oh yea, I am definitely gonna preserve this,” he purred. He gave the corpse a final peck on the lips, licking at the blood, before he begun devouring the heart in his hands. “Mmm,” he moaned. “God, thank you, baby, you were sweet. Even in death.”

He grinned, slipping Ivan’s eyes closed and kissing him one last on the cheek.

It was one last red kiss for his sweetest victim to thank him for his wondrous sacrifice.

**His blood was rich as sugar, more divine than wine, but just as rare as opals**.

**Author's Note:**

> -whelps-  
> i'm going to hell for this //evil manical laughter


End file.
